


Upon a Midnight Cheery

by Syksy



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26853787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syksy/pseuds/Syksy
Summary: Death and Death of Rats go on a visit.
Relationships: Death & Death of Rats (Discworld)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 41
Collections: Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!





	Upon a Midnight Cheery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [facethestrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/facethestrange/gifts).



Two figures are standing in a dimly lit parlour. Last evening's hearty fire has almost died down with only the last gleaming embers casting warm shadows around the room. These two haven't been here very long, but they already have the restless air of guests that are not quite sure whether they are entirely welcome and are starting to wonder if that sofa really doesn’t look all too fine for a body to sit down on? Both are covered head to toe with long black robes. Voluminous hoods shroud their faces in darkness. Unlikely as it is, they still somehow manage to give a bony impression. 

One of the figures, about the size of a beer pint*, speaks.

SQUEAK?

His taller companion, who has been inspecting the statue of a duck holding court to a brood of eggs on the coffee table, turns back to answer.

YES. IT IS INDEED A SKULL. I WOULD HAVE THOUGHT YOU’D RECOGNIZE ONE.

The smaller one taps his tiny scythe on the floor in apparent irritation.

SQUEAK.

WELL THAT IS TRUE. BUT I IMAGINE SHE JUST WANTS TO HONOUR THE TRADITION. HUMANS OFTEN DO THINGS FOR THAT REASON.

On the mantel in front of the speakers does sit a skull. If one wanted to be generous its appearance might be described as rustic, or perhaps impressionistic. There’s a black blob of material stuck on top of it that could be inferred to represent a duck. Inferred, in this case, from its proximity to a string of duck shaped paper cut-outs hanging from said mantel, as well as from all the other feasible surfaces of the room. Despite this, or maybe because of it, the skull looks quite happy.

The taller of the two figures reaches out a hand to touch the skull. Even in this light it’s clear that the appendage has roughly half the material to it that would usually be required to fashion one. There’s a tapping sound.**

IT IS MADE OF CLAY. 

SQUEAK?

HOW SHOULD I KNOW? PERHAPS THEY HAVE RUN OUT OF REAL ONES? THERE IS OBVIOUSLY A GREAT DEMAND. I SAW HALF A DOZEN ON THE PORCH NEXT DOOR ALONE.

Suddenly a third figure appears at the door. This one is clad in a white nightgown, complete with the obligatory cascade of lace at the throat, but somehow on her the garment does not appear any less sombre than the robes the other two are wearing. As if simply by donning it she has forced the colour to go all the way beyond white and come back on the other side (without dragging its feet on the way, thank you very much). There is solemn, and then there is whatever this is.

In her left hand the newcomer is holding a candle in an elaborate brass candlestick. Her right one is raised higher, firmly gripping a poker. 

The tableau holds for a dramatic moment. Then the poker is lowered. This makes the new personage seem only slightly less threatening.

“Grandfather! What are you doing here?”

WE HAVE COME TO WISH YOU A HAPPY SOUL CAKE TUESDAY.

“Nobody does that. It really isn’t a family holiday, you know.”

SQUEAK.

“All right, when you put it like that, it does seem remarkably fitting.”

A pause.

“Would you like some tea, then?”

*An Ankh-Morpork standard one. Pints in Überwald are often twice as big and shadier establishments everywhere have their own ideas of ”normal” sizing, which usually is something along the lines of ”as small as possible without too many folks noticing and kicking up a stink”.

**This sound would be very much at home in a horror movie. It is the sort that goes straight to the back of your neck, raising the hairs there and convincing you—at once—that someone is standing right behind you. Probably with a knife.


End file.
